Let Me See the Best of You
by thamockingjayandpeeta
Summary: Just a little bit of Haymitch & Effie, because they're two complex characters who prove that you can be around someone for years, & still not really know them. Set during the beginning stages of the Rebellion. Appearances by our beloved Peeta & Katniss, of course.


**I wrote this because for some unknown, strange reason, I'm starting to ship Effie and Haymitch. It genuinely came out of the blue. I'm writing another story, Rise From the Ashes, and while writing that one, Haymitch and Effie started speaking to me.**

**For those of you waiting on an update from Rise From the Ashes, you may get an update today. I haven't decided yet ( :) ). **

**I do hope you all enjoy this! Please Review, Reviews make my life!**

**Sincerely yours,**

**-thamockingjayandPeeta**

The first time he sees her without makeup her beauty shocks him. It was so unexpected that he stood there, openly gaping, mouth wide open, eyes round as saucers.

"Why don't you ever let your guard down?" he had asked her, not ten minutes ago.

Sleep was not his friend that night, and without the alcohol, he knew he wouldn't be able to escape the nightmares anyway, so he might as well get up and watch the Quarter Quell.

He had found her in the living room, the lights off, standing and facing the TV, its volume low.

And her wig had been off.

She'd gasped and attempted to cover herself, as if she were naked, and he guessed in a sense, she was.

He had grabbed her arms, not roughly, but tightly, forcing them to her sides.

"I know it hardly seems fair," she had responded in her cool, clipped, Capitol accent, "that I've seen you at your worst, and you've never seen me that way, but it's just not _proper_, Haymitch."

"Oh, I've see you at your worst, Princess," he had told her. "You pick the names. You schedule them to their death in your tall stilettos, over-the-top outfits, and overly done makeup. In twenty years I've definitely seen you at your worst. I want to see you at your best. Unguarded. No wig. No makeup. Nude. Stripped."

He hadn't meant for it to come out so sensual, but somehow that's how it came out. Those words made him let go of her arms, suddenly all too aware of how close they were.

She had stared at him, speechless, for once in her life.

"Have you ever seen _anybody_ in the Capitol without makeup, or a wig, or heels?"

"You being here, with me during all of this, is proof that you're not their puppet, Effie."

She had bristled at that. He knew the word puppet always struck a nerve with her.

"Why do you want to see me like that so badly?" asked Effie quietly.

"Because I get the feeling the Effie underneath all of the makeup is the same Effie who is an important part of this Rebellion."

"That Effie, this Effie, they're both the same person."

"Not true," he had argued. "The Effie who showed up twenty years ago, fresh from her modeling days, was _excited_ to be an Escort. You took pride in reading off the names of the Tributes who'd be dead before the first night. That Effie didn't cry herself to sleep." He had added that last part softly.

Her eyes widened, and then her face flushed.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

She turned away from him but didn't leave the room. She just needed to move, escape from his penetrating gaze. "What do you want from me?"

He couldn't say that he was intrigued, curious. In twenty years he'd never genuinely been curious. Hell, he can't even say he _cared_. In twenty years he had never been sober enough to wonder whom Effie Trinket was, because with each sound of the canon every year, usually one of his Tribute's faces in the sky, it was just easier to drink than to try and figure her out.

But that was before the boy, and the Mockingjay. That was before they had a pair of fighters on their hands. He had seen a different Effie, and it had startled him. He had been blindsided, and had wondered, for the first time ever, if there was more to her.

Because even when he'd heard her crying years ago, he'd convinced himself it was only because the death of their Tributes meant that she'd never move to a better District, which everybody knew was her life's ambition.

"I want to see you, Effie," was all he had said to answer her question.

"You see me every day."

"I saw what you let me see," was his counter-argument. "You can't tell me that the Effie I knew twenty, hell ten, years ago would have been staying up late with me these past few weeks, planning a war on her beloved Capitol?"

"So because you misjudged me, I have to—"

"You don't have to do anything. I'm asking you to. When have I ever asked you for anything?"

She had sighed and looked away.

"With everything we've been through, and everything we're going through, I don't think I'm asking for too much."

"You know, for the first time I wish you were drunk, so you wouldn't remember this tomorrow."

His heart has swelled, because those words meant that his wish would be granted.

"Wait here," she had commanded, and he had a mind to follow her as she stalked off, but she turned to him. "Surely by now you trust me _some what_, Haymitch. I'll be right back."

He had felt sheepish, because if she had proven anything, it was that she was indeed trustworthy.

And wasn't that a bitch? Wasn't that so random, so unexpected?

Effie Trinket, the Rebel.

What the _fuck_?

She came back downstairs, slowly, hesitantly, but she came, and she stood directly in front of him, and he was floored.

Beautiful was an understatement. Her soft, honeycomb colored curls cascaded around her bare shoulders. Her eyes were bright, blazing blue, blinding him even in the dark. Her lips were soft pink and full and holy fucking shit he was wondering what it'd be like to kiss them.

He needed a drink.

Or two.

Or twenty.

"You're beautiful," he told her. "I don't know how you can't see that. You don't need all that crap on your face, or a bird's nest on your head."

She seemed flushed, and her blush was affecting him, and doing things to him, so he _had_ to say something to lighten the mood, before he did something stupid like kiss her.

"But keep the heels. You're a midget. I've no idea how you modeled. Aren't models supposed to be tall?"

She blinked at him. "Thank you, for reminding me why I hate you."

Her eyes were twinkling, and damn it to hell, it made his stomach do summersaults.

"Anytime," he had responded, and he headed back towards his room. Before he left her alone, though, he turned back to her. "I was serious, though. You're gorgeous, Princess. You don't need any of that cake. You're fucking sweet enough without it."

"Manners, Haymitch," was the last thing he heard her say.

**XxXx**

The first time she kissed him she was without makeup.

"She really does love him, you know," she told him softly.

"I agree," grunted Haymitch as he watched Peeta come back to life after the force filed had killed him.

Nearly killed him, he had to remind himself as he took a shuddering breath.

Effie wiped her eyes. "When this is all over, remind me to slap him for being so _stupid_. If he had died…."

"Don't," Haymitch interrupted, and in that moment they both realized how much they had grown to care for Peeta and Katniss.

"If for whatever reason something happens to Peeta," she tried again, but he whirled on her.

"Why would you say that? Why would something happen to him? Those involved have their orders. Keep him alive at all costs."

"I'm just saying, Haymitch, if things don't go according to plan—"

"Then all hell will break lose, Princess, because Katniss is stubborn, and she wants Peeta alive. Without that, then all of our planning goes to shit. If Peeta dies, she will not be the Mockingjay, because she does love him, whether she knows it or not, and without him, she'll be lost."

Effie was quiet for a while after that.

"I'm gonna try and catch a few hours. I haven't been sleeping all that well without—"

"I know," Effie says quietly. She hesitantly reaches out and grips his hand. "I know it's not easy, staying sober for them, but I appreciate it. They need you. The Rebellion needs you. Without you none of this would be possible."

He had squeezed her hand and headed to bed, thinking he wasn't only staying sober for them.

No, he was also staying sober for her.

When he came back, a few hours later, another nightmare having woken him up, he went back to the living room. Effie was there again, this time a blanket around her.

No wig.

No makeup.

"How'd you sleep?" asked Effie when she saw him.

"Same. But between the nightmares I did get some rest, so…. What'd I miss?"

"The Careers just set up camp to get some rest. Katniss is keeping watch. She doesn't trust Finnick, even with the gold bangle."

"I'm not surprised. She doesn't trust me, so why would she trust who I picked as her ally?"

"What's with you two anyway?"

"We're both alike," Haymitch said, finally sitting down on the floor next to her. "Stubborn. Quick-tempered. And we don't trust anybody for shit. Maybe it's a seam thing." He shrugged.

"I always thought you and Katniss were alike, but not because of those reasons," said Effie. Haymitch looked at her. "Well sure you're those things as well. And rough around the edges. And horrid manners." Haymitch rolled his eyes. "But you're also both smart. And fiercely loyal. And brave. And you're survivors."

He swallowed thickly, because he couldn't remember the last time someone paid him a compliment, and he knew for certain Effie Trinket had never done so.

"And neither of you know how to take a compliment," Effie finished with amusement in her voice. "The proper response should have been, 'Thank you, Effie.'"

Really? And he had thought it'd be to kiss her.

Because that's what he wanted to do.

They watched the Games for a little while when Effie broke the silence. "Do you want to get in?"

In?

In _where_?

He had looked up, and she was holding the cover back for him.

What the _hell_? Was he being set up?

She must have seen the confusion on his face because she blushed. "I would sit up, of course."

"Oh. Right. Sure." He climbed up on to the couch and sat down and she wrapped the blanket around them. They watched the game for several moments before he said, "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"What you said about me and Katniss."

"Well of course I did. Why?"

"It just sounded like… you cared."

"What? Well _of course_ I care, Haymitch. I care about you, and Katniss, and Peeta." He was stunned. He wasn't sure he remembered the last time somebody cared about him, or when he had even allowed someone to do so.

When was the last time _he_ had cared about anything or anyone?

"I meant it when I said we were a team. And I damn sure wouldn't put my life at risk, joining this Rebellion, if I didn't care about you."

_Care about me_? Haymitch thought.

"And Katniss and Peeta," added Effie a few seconds later, and he can't help but think,

_Nice save_.

"Well thanks for caring," he said.

And then she leaned over and kissed him, softly, kindly, quickly, on the lips.

And it shook him to his core.

She flushed at her actions, and then stood up before he could say anything.

"I should go to bed. It's late. But yes. Yes, I certainly do care about you Haymitch, even if you are an asshole."

As if the kiss hadn't shocked him enough.

"Manners, Effie," was the only thing he could mumble, and she smiled at him, smiled at him with rosy pink, full lips, and eyes that would compete with the lit sky. "See you tomorrow, Princess."

**XxXx**

The first the _he_ had kissed _her_, they were arguing. It was deep into the night, and they were so into their argument they didn't even hear the cannon when Mags scarified her life so that Peeta, Katniss, and Finnick could get away from the fog.

"You're _crazy_," he had snapped at her. "After all this planning you think I'm gonna let—"

"Going to _let_?" said Effie darkly. "I am _not_ a child, Haymitch."

"I just don't get it. Why on _earth_ would you _stay_ here?"

"I _have_ to, Haymitch."

"No you don't. Everything we've been planning was so that you could be safe."

"I'm playing my part well, Haymitch. No one suspects a thing. What'll happen if I up and disappear with you and Plutarch?"

"You'll be safe, that's what'll happen. What is this, your way of pretending you haven't chosen a side? Are you hoping that they won't suspect you so when the war's over you can go back to being a prominent member of the Capitol?"

She had marched across that floor, her six-inch stilettos clicking loudly, and slapped him, hard, on the cheek.

"I'm doing this for _you_," she had hissed, ignoring the dark blue his eyes blazed at her contact. "It'd arouse way too much suspicion if we all disappeared. They'll come for me, Haymitch, and I will _not_ let them break me. You think I don't know what'll happen? I've heard about what they do to traitors of the Capitol."

"Which is why I won't let you—"

"I'm staying, Haymitch. I have to play my part here, in the Capitol."

"This is so _stupid_. When you came on board, as part of the Rebellion, I was supposed to be able to keep you safe. It never, not once, crossed my mind that you wouldn't come with us. What was all that bullshit about us being a team, then, just words?"

If she thought she could hit him again and get away with it, she would have.

"Haymitch, I had no idea you cared," she spit at him.

"Cared? _Cared_?" He snatched her up and brought her towards him, then forced his lips on hers. She seemed frozen for all two seconds before melting into him. He shoved his tongue down her throat and she heard herself moan. When he sat her down on top of the table the glasses rattled.

He left simmering kisses along her neck, and she felt her pulse jump when his lips landed on it. She had never, ever been alive before this moment. He gave her life.

She snaked her hands underneath his button-up shirt, feeling the muscle beneath it, remembering the stories he had told her about Peeta whipping them all into shape.

Still under his shirt she forced her hands to his neck, pulling him up by his hair so that she could crash her lips to his again. They kissed until their heads started to swim from lack of oxygen. Any minute now they'd blackout, but he was so _worth_ it, and so was she.

A knock bought them back to their senses.

"Haymitch, you in there?" He had had a mind to ignore the voice on the other end of the door, because he had Effie Trinket underneath him, breathing heavy, face flushed, eyes the color of the ocean as she stared at him, lust paramount in their reflection. There were only two other people important enough to interrupt him in this moment, and they were both in the Arena. "Haymitch, it's from Coin."

Coin? Got damn it. How stupid was that woman? Did she know how risky it was to contact each other? What if this message had fallen into the wrong hands?

He untangled himself from Effie, his hands shaking, because he either wanted her, or a drink, and got damn it he couldn't have either.

"I care," he told her quietly, and he walked away, fulfilling his duties.

**XxXx**

The first time she comes to his room, and knocks on his door, it's late at night, and he's still up watching the Hunger Games, Katniss and Peeta just surviving the monkeys.

He was nervous, because the Tributes who were in on the plan were starting to make it obvious, at least in his eyes. They had to be careful and tread lightly here.

His breathing had just returned to normal when there was a soft knock on his door. He was surprised. He thought he was the only one up as most people had gone to bed hours ago.

"Princess," he said with a small grin when he opened the door.

"I saw the light on," she had told him casually with her clipped Capitol tone. "I wanted to apologize for ignoring you earlier."

He snickered. "We _planned_ that, Effie. We can't be seen as _friends_ in public. It'd arouse too much suspicion. We hate each other."

"But I don't hate you, and we've come a long way from disdainful looks and snide remarks. I just feel bad." He shook his head at her, touched, but he'd never admit that to her. "Can't sleep?"

"No more than you, apparently." She gave him a half smile. "Wanna come in?"

She sighed. "Haymitch it's just not _proper_ for a single Capitol woman to lie in bed with a man who could easily be one of the world's most eligible bachelor's if he cleaned himself up a bit."

Haymitch snorted as she walked away, closing the door behind her, but several minutes later there was another knock. Cursing he went back to open his door.

And there she stood, makeup free, wig gone, in a soft robe, looking as stunning as ever.

"Does the invitation still stand?"

"I thought it was inappropriate for a single Capitol woman to lie in bed with a man who—"

"Oh, shut up, Haymitch," she interrupted. "Out of all the times to suddenly listen to me."

"I always listen to you. Most of the time I just ignore you."

She rolled her eyes. "I've no idea what I'm going to do with you. Can I come in or not?"

He moved aside.

"Thank you. Besides, the Effie who couldn't stay with you is upstairs, tucked away. _This_ Effie has no problem whatsoever with staying with you."

And it was something about her word choice that made him see her in a whole new light, because she said 'couldn't', as opposed to 'wouldn't,' and it struck him, then, that maybe her makeup and wigs did for her what alcohol did for him: helped her keep up her appearances and deal with the pain.

She fell asleep in his arms that night, curled up against his body, and he marveled at how peaceful and serene she looked.

The next morning she got up shyly, probably over thinking, and slid to his door. Before leaving she turned to him, his eyes still heavily lidded, and said,

"That was the best night sleep I've gotten in years. I never thought you'd make me feel safe."

**XxXx**

The first really honest thing she had ever told him was that Katniss' nightmares on the Victory Tour had shaken her like nothing else had.

"We'd never had winners before," she had said, eyeing her glass of wine, and he wondered if maybe she had had too much. "So we'd never had had a Victory Tour. Those screams… they made me want to hide in my room under my bed or in my closet. It was the first time there was a crack in my façade. I hated the Games, truly hated them in that moment."

He'd never let her hear his nightmares. He was always too drunk.

"And then Snow announced that the new Tributes would be former Victors, and my mind jumped to you, and then Peeta and Katniss, and I broke down. Literally broke down, and thank God I had declined the Viewing Party in the Capitol, because they all would have seen me, and it'd have been out of my control, because I couldn't stop the tears."

She looked up at him then, her face once again naked, her eyes blue fire. "When I called your name at the Reaping, my heart stopped. In the few seconds it took for Peeta to volunteer I asked myself who was going to protect you and Katniss? And then Peeta volunteered for you, and I got sad all over again, because it just wasn't fair. But at least I knew they had you. You had shown me a Haymitch I had never known existed in the last year's Games, and I knew they'd be okay.

"I never thought you had a Rebellion brewing, though. I never suspected a thing, until you showed up, not nearly as drunk as you should be given the circumstances, and I got a good look into your clear blue eyes. They had determination in them."

"And you cornered me and demanded for me to tell you what was going on," Haymitch said.

"You didn't think you could trust me."

"No, I didn't."

"What made you change your mind?"

Haymitch took a deep breath. "For one, I didn't care if you told, because by that point I wanted Snow to know. If you betrayed us, the war would only happen sooner rather than later, and I was ready. Beyond ready. But… no peacekeepers ever came to take me away, or to take anybody involved away. So I knew you hadn't said anything. And for the first time, I respected you. But in between then, it was Cinna. He told me that you told him you were sick of it, were sick of the Games, and the death, and that if I looked beyond the Capitol mask, I'd see a woman hurting, just like the rest of us. And I took what Cinna told me, and what you told me, slept on it, without drinking, and took you to a room and told you everything."

"You told me it'd be dangerous, really, really dangerous, and you asked me several times if I was sure. People would die, you told me, and then Cinna _did_ die, and it was all very real, then, in that moment."

"But you still came to me, still ready to fight. And together, we started planning."

"I wish I had known eighteen years ago you were so smart"

"I wish I had known eighteen years ago you weren't so shallow."

He could have taken her to bed that night, probably should have, but instead they went to her room and fell asleep together.

And for once he hadn't been plagued with nightmares.

**XxXx**

The first time they'd made love wasn't until after the war had ended, because she had won in the end, and had refused to leave with them. He had begged, pleaded, but to no avail, and she had kissed him, so gently he wondered many nights if it had even been real, and she told him that he had to go. "Go make her our Mockingjay."

She'd pushed him out the door, and then slammed it in his face, the words 'I love you' stuck in the back of both of their throats.

When he had found her, scattered in some random hospital, from a list of names given to him by Plutarch, she was broken. Her wig was nowhere to be found, she hadn't an ounce of makeup on her face, her lips were chapped and cracked, and her eyes… oh those fine china blue eyes were so empty….

He made her get Katniss ready for her trial, because that's what Effie was good at, damn it, with her to-do lists and her schedules. It sort of brought her back, at least for a little while, before he caught her drifting off.

She didn't immediately tell him what they did to her, though he knew. He made the doctor tell him by threatening to go through every single file on every single patient until he found Effie Trinket's file. "And there's not a single person in the world right now who'd arrest me, because I'm the mentor of the Mockingjay, and I have friends in high places."

He had gotten her file, noted that she'd been tortured with water and electricity, like Johanna. She showed signs of malnutrition, dehydration, and had three cracked ribs, a broken jaw, and a broken nose.

He had seen red, been red with fury, and he wanted to blow everything up, and in that singular moment he wondered if Coin and Snow's death had even been worth it.

He couldn't cry when he got to her though, because she shed enough tears for the both of them. He had taken her, though, because he had his own doctors at his fingertips, particularly Dr. Aurelius, who had helped Peeta, and if _Peeta_ could get help, then Effie should be no problem.

Haymitch had gone to Effie's during the trial. They couldn't watch it there, with everyone, the room more tense now than it ever had been during a Game. During a Game you knew the outcome: there'd be one survivor. This? A trial? Any fucking thing could happen.

So they went to her place, which had amazingly remained untouched during her absence, and they lasted all of five minutes, in the living room, the trial on the screen, before one look made everything come crashing down.

Neither of them recalled how they even made it to the bedroom.

He did have one chivalrous moment, as she was kissing him and running her fingers all over. "Are you sure, Princess? We're both pretty fucked up right now, and I don't want—"

"I wanted you before the war, Haymitch," she'd interrupted. "Now shut up and kiss me."

"It's been so long," he had told her as she started undressing him. Like twenty-five plus years.

"For me too," whispered Effie.

_How_ he had waited so long he'd _never_ know, because the minute he was inside of her he realized that this was the best feeling in the whole entire world, and he was a damn fool for putting himself in solitary confinement for all these years.

It was pretty damn quick but it was also pretty fucking incredible.

And then she burst into tears afterwards.

He'd frozen, worried that they'd just made a big mistake.

"I don't want you to leave," she sobbed.

Leave? What? He just got here.

"Katniss is going to get off, I _know_ she is, and they'll send her back to 12, and you'll have to go, because you're her mentor, and she'll need you, but I need you too."

She was right, of course, and he had known that when he'd arrived, but in the heat of the moment he'd forgotten everything and everyone, with the exception of Effie.

"I'm here now," he had told her, and when he slid back on top of her, he took his time with her, kissing every scar, kissing her all over, until her sobs turned to gasps and her body started to flush from pleasure.

They clung to each other, and he tried his damnest to remember every single thing about her, because he didn't know how long this would last, but he hoped forever, because she fit so _perfectly_ inside him, and the way her body responded to his thrusts made him think that maybe this was way more than lust, and she'd never, ever said his name like that, and why had he never appreciated how _sexy_ Haymitch sounded coming from her lips? And the way she moaned out 'Yes,' over and over again, or moaned from way down deep in her throat, the way she dug her nails into his back made him realize that there may never be anything better than this ever, not even alcohol, and perhaps he should become addicted to her instead.

When she clenched around him, their bodies dripping with sweat, he jerked inside of her and felt himself release, but before he could cry out from pleasure her lips were on his, and he felt every nerve in him explode at the contact.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he cursed when she pulled away, her own hips still lightly pumping against his, as if trying to receive ever drop of him.

"Manners, Haymitch," was her response, and he looked at her, looked at his Effie, and thought about all her rules and regulations and lists and appointments, and said, "I love you."

It'd been years, _years_ since he'd loved someone, but you can't plan a war with someone and not start to care for them. These past two years he'd seen a side of her he'd never known existed, and she had seen the same within him.

So when Katniss got off, and was sentenced back to 12, yah, he had to go. And even though he hated the Capitol, he came back, to help Peeta, and to help Effie. And when it was time for Peeta to return home, he'd call and check up on Effie.

The drinking never stopped, but he no longer _needed_ the alcohol. He cleaned himself up, kept a couple of bottles of liquor, like a _normal_ human being, and threw the rest of them out.

He kept wine on deck too, because Effie liked wine, and when she came to visit, and she would come, because she loved him too, she would be able to drink it.

He cleaned his place up and started raising geese, anything to keep him distracted when Effie wasn't there, though she came to visit every other weekend.

They'd both rather be here than in the Capitol, but she couldn't leave, anymore than he could leave 12.

She stopped wearing the wigs and the pounds of makeup, but she never stopped being _Effie_. She still wore heels and was a fashionista, but he learned to appreciate that about her.

And when she finally moved to 12, she took the seam's fashion and made them her own, and after a while people got used to the eccentric Effie. She'd walk to Peeta's bakery, or shop around town, and people had stopped pointing and laughing.

"That's just Effie," they'd say, and they'd welcome her warmly.

Much to Katniss' horror her daughter, who painted and baked just like her father, took a surprising interest in fashion, and it was Effie who taught her to walk in heels, and it was Effie who convinced Katniss to let Willow try on some of the Mockingjay's old clothes.

"They just sit in the closet, collecting dust."

Katniss and Effie had both cried when they'd seen Willow off to her senior prom, something that had been reinstituted several years ago, along with sports like football, basketball, and baseball.

Peeta and Haymitch had to blink away their own tears, and when Willow and her date went off, Effie, Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta stayed up well into the night, wondering where the time went.

"One minute we're planning a war, the next we're falling in love," Effie said once they were back at their own place, in bed. "An Escort and a mentor. Why I'd never."

"Me either, Princess," he said, and rolled over and pulled her to him.

"Perhaps the odds were in our favor," said Effie, her Capitol accent sneaking through in her sleepiness.

He'd smiled at those words and kissed her neck.

He didn't sleep with the knife anymore. He didn't need to.

The Games were over, and when they ended, his life had finally begun again, all thanks to a Capitol woman who'd let down her guard, stripped naked for him, and allowed him to see the very best of her.


End file.
